


Mission: Mothering

by 27dragons



Series: 27dragons' Tony Stark Bingo [20]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, MIT Era, POV James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: The first time Rhodey invites Tony to go with him on spring break, he has a mission...(Tony Stark Bingo fill for square T2 - Image: Rhodey Hug)





	Mission: Mothering

Tony glanced at Rhodey nervously, and Rhodey nodded. _You can do this._

He could tell when the phone was answered, because Tony suddenly sat up straighter, his eyes widening. “Hey, uh, hi Dad. I hope this isn’t a bad time...” He chewed on his lip, and faintly, Rhodey could hear the low _wah wah wah_ of someone talking on the other end.

“No, I’ll be quick,” Tony promised. “I just wanted to, I mean, I was thinking about not coming home for spring break this year.” He rushed right ahead before his father could react. “I thought I’d spend it with, uh, some friends, sort of, you know, kind of networking?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. Tony shouldn’t have to _network_. He should be enjoying his spring break like any other kid. Hell, he shouldn’t be in college at all, to tell the truth -- the smarts were there, of course they were, but he was _fourteen_. Rhodey had already had to rescue him twice from predatory older students, all too willing to take advantage of Tony’s desperate need to _fit in_. Taking care of Tony had somehow become Rhodey's primary mission.

But Tony had promised Rhodey that the “networking” line was his best bet to getting permission to spend the break at Rhodey’s. It wasn’t _entirely_ untrue, anyway. He’d be “networking” with Rhodey, who -- all modesty aside -- wasn’t a bad contact to have in his pocket for the future. The Air Force had taken one look at Rhodey’s transcripts and ASVAB scores and promised a fast-track to an officer’s career as an engineer.

And he’d be “networking” with Rhodey’s mom, too. Howard Stark would probably look down his nose at that, but Rhodey was of the opinion that Tony needed a solid dose of Roberta Rhodes’ no-nonsense, common-sense outlook. And the kid could probably use a little actual mothering, too, and Rhodey had no doubt that his mom would take one look at this scrawny, underfed white boy with the too-big eyes and a tendency to flinch if someone approached from the side without warning, and immediately commence with the mothering.

Which would mean somewhat _less_ mothering for Rhodey, who was not at all deficient in that area, so. Win-win.

Tony hung up his phone and grinned at Rhodey, giving a thumbs-up. “We’re golden.” He hesitated, eyes widening as he looked around their room. “What should I pack?”

Mission: Mothering was a _go_.

***

“Well, if that don’t beat all. I’m out of salt. Guess I forgot it when I went to the market yesterday.” Rhodey’s mother put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Forget my head, I reckon, if it weren’t attached. Tony, honey, would you be a love and run down the corner store and pick some up for us?” She snagged her pocketbook where it was sitting on the kitchen table and pulled it toward her, pulling out a few dollars and handing it out.

Tony shook his head before Rhodey could explain to her about his weird thing about being handed stuff. “I’ve got it, Mrs. Rhodes,” he said earnestly. “It’s no trouble. I’ll be right back.” Tony all but skipped out of the kitchen like he’d been awarded a prize.

The instant the sound of the front door closing reached them, her eyes narrowed and she whirled around to face Rhodey, who put his hands up in reflexive protest. “What,” she demanded, “is that _baby_ doing in my house?”

“Fetching salt you don’t need, I guess,” Rhodey said, reaching past her to pick up the mostly-full salt shaker from its usual spot on the table.

His mom snatched the shaker back and put it back in its place. “James Rupert Rhodes--”

Rhodey held up his hands again. “He lives across the hall from me,” he said. “He’s a genius, literally, I am not exaggerating -- but he’s too young to be out on his own, so I keep an eye out for him. I’m basically his big brother, at this point.”

“And that’s just fine,” she sniffed, “I’d expect nothing less of you. But why is he _here?_ Shouldn’t he be home with his folks? I’m sure his mama misses him, just like I miss you when you’re up at school.”

Rhodey grimaced. “I’m... not sure she actually does,” he admitted. “He spent half of Christmas break alone because his parents went on some trip or something. Came back looking like a deflated balloon.”

Suspicion morphed into indignation. “They went off and left that child _alone?_ ” She huffed. “ _Some people_ , I swear.” She yanked open the fridge and started digging through it. “Get out the pie plates,” she commanded. “He’s too skinny, wants feeding up some. What do you think, strawberry-rhubarb or blueberry?” She considered the berry containers, then put them on the counter. “Both.”

Rhodey grinned as he reached up into the baking cabinet for the glass pie pans. _Mission: accomplished_.


End file.
